


Time Thieves

by starmilkman



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: At least not all of them, F/M, M/M, Multi, damn it luther, holy fuck they're not related!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-04-07 22:52:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19094671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starmilkman/pseuds/starmilkman
Summary: Felons come in many forms. Detective D. Flores just never thought he'd become one in broad daylight, all thanks to a stanger's magic trick gone wrong - and he certainly didn't mean to bring his boyfriend into the crime. Okay, maybe he did - so what? It's called love.





	1. Dates, flamingos, and felonies

Diego didn't want to open the boot of his car. Sure, he wanted to see what kind of a wraith got itself there, but he didn't want to _open_  the boot. 

The noise came out of nowhere, really. First, the car shook with a quiet _thud_ that was nothing to get concerned about: especially with all the pot holes just laying all over the streets of the shitty suburb Diego was driving through. The muffled whimpers and kicks, though, were something to get nervous about.

So no, Diego definitely didn't want to open the boot of his car. There was no noise anymore, and it downright sent warning shivers down his spine because... Well, was it _dead_? What was _it_ anyway, and how the _hell_ did it get in the car?

“ _Fuck-_ ” The man whispered to the air filling the space between him and the smooth, shining back of the car.

The leash his boss kept him on was already tight and uncomfortable, everyone at the station knew it, but that kind of un-explainable shit? That right there could've cut the leash and banished him from any sort of job opportunity ever again.What if it was _a body_ ?

_'It's not a body, it's probably just some... Raccoon.. Possum shit..._ ' Diego thought, encouraging himself to just _open_. _the goddamn_. **_trunk_**. And he did. And _oh_ , how he wished that he didn't.

A flurry of blacks and grays pounced at the police detective with speed and strength that he sure as hell didn't expect from a dead, shitty raccoon or possum. He didn't know how it happened, but Diego was chocking on gasps and wheezes of air on the ground, a mystery foot holding him down by the throat.

Survival instincts were something he and _Daredevil_ here had in common, as it didn't take long from Diego to knock the figure off its balance with a pull on their ankle. He almost felt bad for them after he saw how hard their face kissed the hot summer asphalt - _almost_ being a keyword. His legs propelled him towards the willowy stranger, arms shooting forward to pin them to the ground, yet it wasn't enough as a series of unfortunate punches (three, he counted, and a fourth missed by a hair) graced his features.

' _I can't catch a fucking break, can I_ '

As if the stranger below him had read his mind, they landed a fine kick to Diego's groin and he saw stars explode into blinding supernovaes at the attack. He didn't waste much time dreaming of outer space though, and made sure that he directed a knockout punch to their face.

They stilled. Not even a whine came out of them, and if the lithe stray did make an effort to make a sound, Diego was far too adrenaline high to hear it over his heavy puffs and huffs of air. Goosebumps tickled the skin on his neck and arms. The heart inside his chest threatened to jump out, but he picked up enough courage to chain it down and stay calm. He just knocked out a civilian. _A civilian_.

' _Fuck_.'

Was it really wrong of him to straight up knock-out someone off the street? Well, technically, they jumped out of his car - which was even worse of a scenario. Just to be clear, _they_ attacked _him_ first. Not the other way around. He truly did hope that it wasn't the other way around.

The adrenaline washed off of him as fast as it fogged his mind, and Diego was soon on his feet with the body in his strong arms, their head cuddled into his shoulder, face remaining hidden by the oddity of their hair. Long, black, messy and very swamp like. Diego didn't know why it felt swamp-ish; perhaps because of the way it wrapped around their neck in an almost suffocating manner or simply because they smelled as if they were drowned in a marsh - something so naturally calming in contrast of the wildcard introduction the man was served with.

Perhaps Diego didn't accidentally bump their head into the window frame in the process of getting them in the back seat of his Power Hawk, but for the sake of the situation it would've been appropriate to simply say that it was a tiny accident. If anything, he felt like a mom when he pulled on and adjusted the seat bealts over their legs and torso. They were tall and the detective's car wasn't acting very cooperative about that fact.

He couldn't go to the police station. Folks would break their necks over the hottest new suspicion in the department and as much as Diego knew he was hot, he was definitely not about to raise suspicion on himself over this kind of bizarre event.

His home was literally the worst place to keep someone like this at; buzzing with the life of the to-be-boxing-champions, under the complaints of dear old Al that went along the lines of _How's the rent coming up?_ , _You're gonna pay for the holes in the wall_ and his personal favourite _Knock on the boiler, it's getting chilly!_. Yeah, a gym's boiler room was a bad spot for a hostage - who wasn't technically a hostage, but temporarily fit the term to a point that Diego had to discover.

Only one place was sort of welcoming to this string of issues. And only one person thought out of the box enough to figure out a shape for this tangled up situation.

The ink black Studebaker drifted not more than a few house lenghts forward until Diego parked it on the sidewalk in front of a plastic pink flamingo filled front yard that he could've sworn honked at him everytime he pulled the car keys out. Except for the confusion that naturally splashed him by the birds, guilt was beginning to stroke his neck before slowly choking him up in it.

The body's reflection in the driver's mirror was a flea in Diego's cool skin, and it started to itch. He slammed the door behind him and made a beeline towards the house behind the flamingos, guilt shaking the parents of anxiety - fear and nervousness - with sweat beads beginning to form on his forehead. He probably shouldn't've chosen the black turtleneck for a summer day.

' _Sorry I'm late, I had a body in my trunk, they're on my backseat now_ '

' _The traffic was a state, but the person in my trunk is a fucking feral continent_ '

To keep it short between those examples, excuses weren't a go-to for the outspoken man. The beaut who opened the door before the knocking ensued tho, was a bloody professional.

“I've got a knocked out dude in my car.”

“Well ain't _that_ a fresh way to start a date.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> friends are always there to help, right? at least, that's what Diego needs right now.

“Well ain't _that_ a fresh way to start a date.”

It was more of a statement than it could've been an actual question, and coming from such a visually confusing apparition that Klaus Wagner was did not make it any easier for either of the men.

This lanky young man served looks. He was a high fashion catwalk morphed with the casual lifestyle of an american crackhead you could only ever see in movies (minus the crack, some people just had that personality), molded to fit the shape of a suburban witch who sold your old neighbour Wallace his monthly aphrodisiac to spice things up with his porcupine-

**_concubine!_** _He meant concubine. Her name is Yolanda by the way, she's a shady Maneater_.

But it wasn't all just concubines, porcupines and selling semi-illegal cats-in-bags to people. Under the maximum of the minimum of clothes this skeleton was wearing, including the skin he so proudly showed off, was a man who could see (and hear **!** ) ghosts.

Yes, _ghosts_. Phantoms, demons, angels, whatever the hell you called them - he witnessed them first handedly every day at the most random of times. Sure, it was a _"Gift from God"_ and a magnet for money that came out of aunt Karen's vintage wallet; but would knocking one off at ten o'clock in the morning in the presence of ten vaguely disturbing spirits be considered a gift? _No, it **bloody** wouldn't_.

How a legitimate ghost seer got in touch with a legitimate police detective was a story for another time. Now, to the elephant in the room or rather - the giraffe in the car.

Diego shrinked on the pale man's porch, looking like a puppy heard the phrase _My dog ate my homework!_ and thought _Yeah, I'm gonna do that!_ resulting in literally ripping the kid's notebook into shreds of math and physics themed confetti. Klaus didn't judge him. He liked confetti.

A curious frown followed the man's lazy attempt of stretching over the detective's form, the green of his squinting eyes slowly being swallowed by the puppy eyeliner he masterfully applied as he glanced over at the rare engine beast resting on his piece of the sidewalk.

_Was he seriously storing a body in there?_

“So,” his eyes fell back on Diego, a hint of laziness playing tag with amusement in them and revealing itself in the voice that bubbled out of his goatee framed lips. “How about we see the fringe contender?” To which Diego replied with a stressed out sigh and a hurried set of nods.

In all honesty, Klaus absolutely, one hundred percent, full-on did _not_ trust his turtleneck loving buddy on the situation that he was deliberately sliding into his shaking porcelain white hands. Following Diego's beeline back to the jet black car felt like he was a parent playing along with his child and his imaginary friend; which was ironic, because that's exactly what Diego did to Klaus on his first couple of séances. So when the two men stopped right in front of the car doors, Klaus encouraged it to be opened with overdone excitement.

He laughed at first, mostly because he was too busy admiring his sturdy friend's back and bottom and not looking at the highlight of attention he was notified about earlier.

"You really thought I would fall-" Did he scream? If the palm of Diego's hand smacking onto Klaus' mouth was a sign to calculate by, then yes, he assumed that he did scream. His cold fingers wrapped around the warm skin of Diego's wrist and pulled it off his mouth, then tangled into the raven black curls that graced his head.

“ _Christ on a cracker._ ” Was all he managed to squeak after a heavy blanket of panic fell onto the car, Diego and himself. Diego didn't speak. He couldn't, and if he could, it would probably just make the situation worse.

“Gogo, why in the honey nut cheerios name is there a body in your backseat?” With that question hovering in the air above them, Klaus decided to poke the hostage's foot to make sure that Uldrígsonn's weed didn't unexpectedly get a lot more worthy of his fifteen bucks.

_Uldrígsonn's weed fucking sucks._

“Klaus, you can ask me anything - _anything_ \- after we get them in the house.”

Klaus turned to give Diego a wide eyed, mouth gaping look. He pulled his hands on his barely covered hips and took a step back just for a safety measurement. He felt like he could knock the detective out cold just as well as the partner in the car was now, and they couldn't have that, now could they.

“Alright. _Okay!_ Let me just...” Klaus took a few seconds to himself, you know, to work on his breathing, and... Smiled. Grinned. Whatever, like the Cheshire Cat ever really grinned. It was a goddamn cat. “Let me see if I got this all good-”

“We both know that you get what I mean!” Diego snapped, not necessarily in a violent manner, but more of a passive agressive state of anxiety. “The bod... Bod- _Fuck_! _The body! **Fuck**_! They're not dead, I promise!”

And as Diego struggled with his stutter, Klaus realized that maybe being somewhat open about a knocked out guy in his home wasn't such a bad idea. He nodded, brushing down his unruly goatee with his nails painted the edgiest shade of black that high-school emos could only dream of having. Yeah, he'll do this for his friend.

“I'll hold the upper bod. Today's not the day that I'm gonna get kicked in the gut by some feral _hitchhiker_ you went Rocky on.”

So there they were; two guys, carrying a knocked out soul, six feet apart because oh right - they were holding _a body_. Diego was surprisingly skilled when it came to coordinating around the small house. He didn't bump into a single wall or doorframe, not even the shelf that stuck out of the old green closet in the hallway that never ever closed. Klaus on the other hand, jumped over pillows and stumbled over ashtrays that were prior thought of as lost. They laid the stranger down onto a too-soft-to-be-comfortable denim couch in the living room in the most careful motion that they humanly could perform, following a very exhausted Klaus throwing himself back-on next to the body with a groan that had absolutely no place in a situation like this. He pulled himself closer to their torso and leaned onto their frame, the moving of their hair away from their face being the only activity the modern witch cared to indulge in. Diego lost the last piece of his cool with that.

“Don't do that.”

“Do _what_? Come on, we just moved them into my living room. Might as well look who they is.”

“Klaus, for fuck sake, just don't touch it.”

“Oh, wow, so they're an _it_ now? Is _it_ dead, Gogo? Well _it_ sure is pretty, and I believe _it_ is a gal and not a dude.”

Klaus shrugged after receiving a silent glare from Diego, his conclusions and remarks obviously enough to get him to shut up about it before he brought his attention back to the woman next to him.

Black strands with yellow stripes littering her hair on every inch, neatly tucked behind the woman's ears and away from her neck by Klaus' cold, gentle fingers. It was like a curtain raised to expose a scene from a play, and Diego's eyes burned into Klaus' back when he decided to let his polished digits roam the scene.

Smooth, just a tiny bit tanned skin that would've stayed as pale as his own were it not for the foreign sun that kissed her. High cheekbones, no freckles, but a mark similar to a dull cornered triangle resting under her chin. He gave himself the freedom of tracing the odd mark a few times, a low hum emitting from his throat when he was satisfied with his little inspection.

Diego was pissed. Well, he wasn't pissed, but he was certainly stressed out enough to feel extremely off the edge of feeling calm and content. Klaus touching the woman made him think of the sea in times of storm, with winds chasing the waves like sighthounds running a race. Klaus, being a magnificent observer that he was, noticed that and fit the woman's chin in the palm of his hand and pointed her face towards the detective.

“ _Why'd you punch me sir? Abuse! Abuse! Abuse! I'm such a pretty girl! I better not bruise! Abuse! Abuse!_ ” He shared some dramatic acting in his best attempt at a female voice, going off far too high in pitch. A laugh cut through him almost painfully when he saw the look he put on Diego's face, followed by a scream when he looked back at the sky blue eyes fluttering open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, a second chapter after how long?  
> anyway, i hope y'all are satisfied and liked this. there's more on the way, hopefully to come regularly every friday.  
> see you soon!

**Author's Note:**

> u h h hi!  
> this is the first fanfic that i have ever published, so you guys better be kind :')  
> i hope y'all enjoy it so far and... well, i guess that's all for now! have a nice day!
> 
> p.s my summaries are raccoon unworthy garbage. excuse my lack of creativity oof


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